


Getting into Peter Hale's Plants 101

by Stilienski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Plants, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 21:19:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18351917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stilienski/pseuds/Stilienski
Summary: Peter asks Stiles to take care of his plants while he goes on a business trip. Things don't go as planned.





	Getting into Peter Hale's Plants 101

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JungleJelly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JungleJelly/gifts).



> Thanks Junglejelly for helping me out with all the plant stuff, you've got the most magical green thumbs <3

Stiles had had no idea what to expect when Peter called him and demanded he meet him at his place. Well… that was a lie. He’d had some hopes, especially after what had almost happened at Lydia’s birthday party Saturday. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t to feel Peter press a key into his hands the second he got there.

“I need to leave for a few days,” Peter said as he lead Stiles to the living room of his obnoxiously large apartment. “I usually hire a professional to do this, but they weren’t available on such short notice,” Stiles nodded as if he totally understood what the fuck was going on, Peter paid him no mind though. “I will probably be back in a week or so. I’m sure a spark of your standing can manage to keep my plants alive until then?”

Plants? Sure! Stiles could water a few plants for a couple days, no problem. He wasn’t an idiot though. “What’s in it for me? After all, you’re the one who taught me a spark shouldn’t give away his… _services_ … for free.”

Peter answered his smirk with one of his own and leaned in a little closer. “I’m sure I can make it worth your while, Stiles,” The way his name rolled off Peter’s tongue was positively sinful. “And I do believe there is still something you started last weekend and didn’t get the chance to finish.” Stiles had no clue when Peter had come this close, but his lips were practically brushing Stiles’ cheek by the time he’d whispered the last words into his ear.

All Stiles could do in response was nod slowly, lips slightly parted, his cheeks heating up with a flush. “Now, I hope it goes without saying, Stiles, that if you mistreat any of my plants, a punishment will be in order,” Peter let the promise (or threat, but Stiles had always been a glass half full kind of guy) hang in the air for a little bit. “Am I making myself quite clear, Stiles?” Peter finally demanded a response.

Stiles had to lick his lips and clear his throat before he could even hope to speak without his voice trembling. “Crystal.”

“Perfect,” Peter smirked once again, his eyes lingering on Stiles’ lips. “See you soon, Stiles.”

*****

Stiles is acing this shit. Not only are all the plants still alive, but he’s managed to not go snooping at all. Okay, so it’s a little more involved than just watering a few plants every day, but that’s because Peter had failed to mention he had a full on jungle of prissy high maintenance plants. It’s a good thing Stiles got bored on day two and decided to google all their scientific names to see if any of them could be linked to the supernatural or had some sort of deeper meaning or something. But no, turns out Peter just likes to keep a shit ton of high maintenance little fuckers that have absolutely no use other than to look pretty. Honestly, Stiles doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

He even grows to appreciate (most of) the houseplants during all the time he spends at Peter’s place. It clearly takes dedication and care to keep these things alive, to help them flourish, which Peter has obviously managed to do. Stiles finds he likes the routine in taking care of them and can easily imagine growing attached to them after putting so much time and effort into them. This of course, all coming from a guy who’d let more than a few cacti die at his dorm. To be fair, no one should have ever expected him to take care of something that was designed to stab him. That was just poor gift giving. Luckily he cares enough about Peter (and getting laid) to care about the guy’s plants.

By day six, Stiles is talking and singing softly nonstop from the minute he enters the apartment, just because a couple of weird sites had mentioned plants could totally use companionship and understand affection. Stiles was not about to risk the life of these little guys just cause he thought that it was utter bullshit to talk to plants. He feels comfortable making his way through Peter’s space, he wields the moisture meter with ease and manages to keep spillages to a minimum.

He’s got a goal here. He just has to make Peter glad he settled for Stiles as a plantsitter instead of some random professional. Honestly, what is that even supposed to be? Who would ever dare to put “professional plantsitter” on a business card? He also doesn’t really understand why Peter, a werewolf, would ever let a random person just roam around in his house. Clearly it’s a very good thing he’s here, at least he cares about ~~Peter~~ the plants. Somewhere along the way Stiles also named all the plants in his head, but no one needs to know that.

There are three different succulents on the kitchen counter. They sit in white marble pots with rose gold edges, because yes, Peter is that extra. Stiles dubbed them Nick, Joe and Kevin simply because “Sucker” has been stuck in his head for weeks now. Look, he said he named the plants, he never claimed he was good at it.

On the windowsill in the kitchen are not one, not two, but six ugly ass orchids. All of different varieties. Stiles had quickly learned these prissy little bitches would not hesitate to die on him just to sabotage his chances with Peter. He’d throw them right out the window if that wouldn’t play right into their hand. So instead he settled for giving them all names of Mean Girls. Meet Regina, Cady, Karen, Gretchen, Janis and finally Jackson. Okay, so there were not enough mean girls and to be fair, the bitch had had it coming when she’d dared to wilt on him the tiniest bit on day four.

In the living room were a lot of bigger plants that were surprisingly low maintenance over all. There were two big Monstera plants, one on each side of the bookshelf. To Stiles they’d forever be known as Aidan and Ethan. Because… twins. And with a name like Monstera he had to give them a monster-of-the-week name.

Then there was the lovely big Calathea in the corner of the room. Stiles loved the bright purple color on the underside of the leaves. He named that one Bobby. Bob is a solid name, okay? And Bobby would undoubtedly appreciate the touch of color in that section of the room.

Stiles had kept up the Queer Eye theme for the other plants in this room. There was an absolutely gorgeous String of Pearls on top of the bookshelf, it looked amazing hanging over the edge. So that was Jonathan, with the gorgeous long hair obviously. Karamo wasn’t far off in the form of a heartleaf philodendron standing on the tv cabinet. Antoni was on the bar separating the kitchen from the living room. Okay, it was actually Anne and Tony because Peter just had too many goddamn plants. Though to be fair, Stiles would also prefer two strawberry plants over one.

The last plant in the living room was a purple leaf shamrock. It was nothing short of majestic. It had its own little side table standing just next to the floor to ceiling windows, so it could enjoy the shade most of the day till the sun shone through just so. It looked as if Tan himself had dressed it. Pristine. Not afraid of colour (clearly, it was purple all over) and not afraid to accessorize with some pretty dainty white flowers.

Stiles had really grown to love the plants and taking care of them. And he was killing it! Poor choice of words…

*****

It was on day seven that Peter finally called. Stiles had just finished his plantsitting duties for the day. Simply hanging around the apartment to enjoy Peter’s magnificent book collection. He answered the phone expecting a demand from Peter to pick him up from an airport or something, his heart fluttering with excitement at his ‘pay-day’ being so close now.

“Hey, Peter! How’s the trip?” Stiles greeted while wondering where on earth he’d left his keys, he didn’t want to keep him waiting at the airport.

He heard Peter sigh on the other end of the line. “It’s taking longer than expected,” Stiles stopped frantically looking for his keys between the couch cushions, trying to ignore the disappointment he felt at hearing the news. “Can you take care of them for a few more days?” Oh wow, Peter was actually asking this time?

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles said without hesitation.

“Good,” Peter replied, before diving into an explanation of how to refill the humidifier. “Don’t fill it up to the top, it doesn’t always start when you do. Three quarter of the way should be fine.”

“Okay,” Stiles nodded, looking around for the machine “What humidifier though? Where is it? I don’t have your werewolf tracking skills, dude.” Stiles cast one more glance around the room, frowning at the idea of why anyone would put a humidifier in a kitchen.

He heard Peter sigh at his inaptitude. “The bathroom, Stiles.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh don’t you take that tone with me, mister. As if that was obvious. Why on earth would anyone put a humidifier in the most humid place in their home? That makes zero sense.” He gestured wildly while making his way to a part of Peter’s place he hadn’t stepped foot in so far, nearly sending a framed picture flying as he struck it with his elbow.

Instead of a witty response or even just an exasperated sigh, it was completely quiet on Peter’s end of the line. “For the ferns, Stiles.” Peter said after a bit, suspicion clear in his voice. He paused again when he’d undoubtedly heard Stiles going still just before racing to the first door he saw, revealing a guest bedroom with a very sad looking flower on the nightstand. Stiles almost let out a frantic whimper at the sight. Oh my god, how many plants had he been unwittingly starving this past week?

“You have watered the ferns in the bathroom, right?” Peter’s voice took on a menacing growly quality toward the end there.

“What?” Stiles spluttered quickly, hoping to talk loudly enough to mask his treacherous heartbeat. “The ferns? In the bathroom? Psh. Of course I have!” He stumbled his way into what appeared to be the master bedroom, with a whole freaking shelf of plants. “There’s no plants I’ve given as much attention as those ferns, Peter. The ones in the bathroom. With the humidifier. Of course, how did I not notice the humidifier? Gosh… those dull human senses, am I right?”

“Stiles I swear to God, if you’ve killed my plants -” Stiles didn’t let Peter finish the threat as he threw open the door connecting Peter’s bedroom to the bathroom.

“What plants? I didn’t kill any plants, Peter!” That was definitely a lie, those ferns looked like they were so far on their way to the afterlife that the leaves looked like they’d already been burned by the fires of hell cause that is clearly where these hiding tricksters belonged. “Definitely not the ferns! Or any of the others. just cause I gave most of my attention to those lovely definitely still bright green ferns that have obviously been in your bathroom this entire time - and honestly, what kind of self-respecting plantsitter wouldn’t immediately check the bathroom for more plants? - doesn’t mean I didn’t give the others some of my undying love too, Peter!” He turned around to survey the damage in the master bedroom more closely and quickly realized Peter was going to kill him slowly for this.

“Stiles, I ask you one thing!” Peter could be heard shouting even while Stiles was already desperately trying to end the call.

“Anyway, thanks for the call, Peter. So good to hear your voice! Have fun on your trip! Nah, I don’t think I have any more questions, it’ll be fine. I should really go back to watering the ferns. I mean the plants! Which includes the ferns of course, but not especially the ferns cause they aren’t in any dire need or anything! See you, Peter! Bye!” Stiles hung up and threw his phone in the vague direction of Peter’s bed before turning back around to those goddamn fucking ferns.

He had never repeatedly muttered “shit” so quickly in his life. Those plants were so gone. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He couldn’t go out to buy the same exact plants because a) knowing Peter they’d probably be some sort of extremely specific rare variety and b) Peter was a stupid werewolf with stupid werewolf senses and he’d totally notice and then he’d kill Stiles with his stupid werewolf claws.

After standing there for a solid three minutes looking at the ferns as if they were his worst enemy -  because they were - his heart racing because of the impending doom, he suddenly, frantically started moving. “It’s not too late. Not at all. Just a little browning, that’s fine. It’s fine. No worries.” He muttered as he picked up the class next to the sink, filled it and went to pour it in the pot. “Just need a little water, right? That’s really all plants need, right? Just some good old H2O.”

As gently as possible, so as not to pour the water directly onto the leaves, he tried to move them out of the way only for them to literally crumble and fall to the floor at the slightest touch. Stiles froze. “Oh my god, I’m going to die.”

*****

He had to take a while to calm down, to gather his wits before he went to assess the damage in the other rooms he’d missed. The entire shelf of sad looking plants in Peter’s master bedroom at least didn’t look like they were completely beyond saving. They didn’t look great, but still. Stiles was counting his lucky stars that two out of three plants in the guest bedroom were succulents who appeared to be completely fine at first glance. The white lily didn’t look too hot though.

In the kitchen he found a notepad and pen. He tore off the in-progress grocery list before he jotted down his thoughts on the situation so he could make a plan of action. He was not going to let these fuckers die goddamnit.

  * Bathroom: 
    * 3 ~~dying~~ dead ferns
  * Guestroom: 
    * 1 tired peace lily
  * Bedroom: 
    * 1 fiddle-leaf fig slowly burning alive
    * 2 withering azaleas
    * 1 wilting calathea
    * 1 tired peace lily



Clearly he had his work cut out for him. But he was a mighty spark who could totally handle some dead and dying weeds. He dialled Deaton first. Stiles had no time or patience to return the vet’s polite greeting. “I need a crash course in magical plant care,” he said instead.

Deaton’s answering sigh wasn’t promising. “Where did you get magical plants, we’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. No more business deals with witches. Whatever. It’s not the plants that are magical, I need to save some dying plants. And they look so far beyond saving that it’s time for you to teach me some sort of magical cure-all.” Stiles rushed out.

“Stiles,” Deaton started, with a tone that definitely meant there was another speech about Stiles’ incompetence coming. “You can’t just use your powers for whatever you want.”

Stiles bit back his standard “I can and I will” since he actually needed something from Deaton. “Look Deaton, first of all, this is definitely a matter of life or death not just for these plants. Second of all, you told me I had to practice, right? I’m practicing.”

“No. You can’t expect magic to solve all your problems,” again, Stiles had to actually bite his tongue - okay no, that would hurt, he bit his lip instead - to keep the ‘it can and it will’ response from getting out. “You can come by next week to get some books on the subject and we’ll start working on how to manipulate vegetation next month.”

“No! Deaton, this is important!”

“I’m sure it is, mister Stilinski,” Stiles interrupted him before he could give more of a lecture.

“Deaton, when have I ever actually abused my powers? Sure, I’ve done some random and weird things, but they all taught me plenty of things that regular training wouldn’t have.” He could practically hear Deaton’s deadpan stare.

“Name one.”

Well that was a challenge Stiles would happily accept any day. “Remember that time I made Derek’s pillow follow him around till he went the fuck to sleep already?” Deaton gave a vague noise of confirmation. “Well I learned that spells don’t necessarily cease to exist even when the object it’s cast upon is violently torn to shreds.”

“I could have told you that.” Deaton said matter-of-factly.

“Sure, you could have, but you didn’t,” Stiles pointed out, “and not only that, it also taught me that even if Derek is wolfing out and growling to make the feathers stop following him, he won’t take it out on me. He will even listen to my advice eventually.”

“That doesn’t -”

“It so counts, Deaton. You’re the one who keeps going on and on and on about how a spark and an alpha both get strength out of their bond. If you’re going to tell me that learning that I can trust Derek and that Derek actually trusts me doesn’t count, I will tell everyone you took a permanent marker to an ancient grimoire just to write Finstock’s name in the margins. Repeatedly. With love hearts around it.” And honestly, _Finstock_? With _Deaton_?

Stiles’ grin grew maniacally the longer the silence stretched on.

“Fine, it counts. But I’m still not telling you how to-”

Stiles had nothing to lose, so he went for the kill. “Sure, don’t tell me. I’ll just have to tell Peter how sad it is that you didn’t want to help me save his precious plants.”

“ _Peter’s_ plants?” Stiles smiled smugly as he replied with a quick ‘yup’, obnoxiously popping the ‘p’ at the end. “I’ll send you instructions by email.”

Stiles fistpumped, “I knew we could come to an agreement. Thanks, Deaton!”

*****

Peter had fully expected Stiles to flee town before he got back, so he was surprised to see the jeep standing in a space near his building. At least he had the balls to face him. His car parked in the underground lot, Peter made his way up to his apartment, face set in a scowl. The one time he asks a pack member for a favor, and they just don’t care enough about him to do it right. It’s not even just any pack member, Peter would never even expect those to give him the time of day for anything, but Stiles? The more he thought about it, the more pissed he got. They’d been dancing around each other for years now, it never seeming like it was the right time for it. If all Stiles had wanted was some fooling around, then why did Peter have to be so goddamn patient? It was always the right time to fool around.

By the time he opens the door to his place, he’s so angry he needs to take a breather to make sure his claws and fangs are not poking out. He squashes down the part of him that has been looking for excuses for Stiles ever since he called to check in. “Something could have happened”, “Maybe he got busy”, “Lost the key”. Stiles should have just gotten his act together for once in his life.

With another deep breath, he opened the door. Stiles’ scent immediately hit him in the face. He hadn’t expected that. No one ever came into his apartment so regularly for their scent to stay there. This shouldn’t even have happened with Stiles only coming in once a day to take care of his plants. It had only been 10 days, and it smelled like Stiles had been living here for all of that time.

Peter looked around in suspicion, the scent was everywhere. It was the most strong in the couch cushions and the… the beddings Stiles had left there. Oh, so the little shit couldn’t bother to take care of a few plants but he had no problem making himself at home, did he? He noticed his kitchen had been used regularly too, the scents of food lingering, even though the window had been opened. At least it was clean. There were no filthy dishes except for one mug that was sitting in the sink.

His home smelling so lived in even after he’d been gone for a while intrigued him enough for his earlier anger to disappear to the far back of his mind. He put his suitcase down next to the couch, his eyes quickly roaming over his potted treasures around the room. They all looked perfectly fine, even the orchids in the kitchen looked like they were in top shape. Even though his plants being fine was reassuring, it felt disconcerting to not know what had happened in his home while he was gone. Stiles basically living here hadn’t been the plan. And if it had been anyone but Stiles, Peter would have already chased them out of the door.

He made his way deeper into his home, opening the door to the guest bedroom as he passed it. The succulents were fine, but the peace lily that had been there was nowhere in sight. He also noted how faint Stiles’ scent was in this room. This was getting weirder and weirder. Because why had Stiles even been sleeping on the couch if he knew Peter had a guestroom with a perfectly fine bed? He backed out again in search of now not only Stiles but his missing peace lily as well.

Peter ended up finding both in his bedroom. He felt the tingle of magic in the air as soon as he stepped over the threshold. Again, it was only because it was Stiles’ magic that Peter didn’t immediately wolf out, even though the magic didn’t feel threatening at all, it just shouldn’t be in his home.

The magic wasn’t the only new thing in his bedroom though. There were more plants there than there were when he’d left. The peace lily from the guestroom was sitting next to the other one on the shelf. The ferns had also all joined the party, they were each sitting on chairs that stood in a half circle around the window bench seat on which Stiles was sleeping with a book laying open on his chest, reveling in the sun like a cat.

The more Peter saw from his home, the more he didn’t understand what had happened here. His plants were all in perfect condition, his apartment wasn’t destroyed, so why on earth had Stiles sounded like a criminal being interrogated when Peter had called three days ago? Just to be sure, he checked the bathroom too, feeling the magic tingle again while crossing over between the rooms, as if it was a warded perimeter, which made absolutely no sense.

Peter didn’t like feeling like he wasn’t clued in on every single detail. He hated not being able to get a read on the situation. But diddling around wouldn’t help either, so he made his way over to Stiles. Taking the page marker and placing it between the pages of the book where it had laid open on the sleeping boy in his window.

“I was reading that…” Stiles mumbled before he’d even managed to pry his eyes open.

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s amazing how you’ve mastered reading with your eyes closed, and through the cover no less.”

Stiles shot up straight, a flailing elbow nearly catching Peter in the crotch. “Peter!” His eyes were wide in shock, a flush rising high on his cheeks as he realized he’d been caught unaware. “How was the trip?” He asked while his eyes flitted over all the plants in the room, as if Peter wouldn’t notice.

He let out a low growl. “What did you do?” Stiles’ feet tried to find purchase on the bench cushion as he scrabbled backwards as much as possible.

“Nothing! I didn’t do anything!” he squeaked when Peter caught him in a lie and growled again. “Okay, okay! Calm the fuck down! Don’t kill me!”

“Stiles,” he leaned in closer, “what did you do,” he grabbed the front of the undoubtedly idiotic shirt Stiles was wearing, “to my plants?” he finished as he pulled Stiles so close their noses were almost touching.

“Oh my fucking god! This isn’t calming down, Peter! Your plants are fine! I fixed it!” Peter loosened his grip, embarrassed he’d lost his cool like that, although he wouldn’t ever admit that wasn’t intentional. “Look, I didn’t know there were plants in every single goddamn room of this place, okay? So I forgot to take care of some of them! But then you called and I fixed it! They’re all fine, they’re perfect!”

“You forgot to take care of some of them?” Peter’s eyes narrowed, he’d trusted Stiles with this. Had trusted Stiles to do this one thing for him, to do this one thing that was important to him.

Stiles was shaking his head, his mouth opening and closing before Peter had even finished the question. “Not like that! Peter, calm down. I took this seriously, okay, you asked me to and I did.” Peter could hear how Stiles made an effort to lower his voice, to sound more calm. He also heard how Stiles’ heart never even skipped a single beat. “I get it, these plants are your babies. I just honestly didn’t know there were any in these rooms. The doors were closed when I got here and I didn’t want to go snooping. I didn’t want to invade your personal space or whatever.”

What?

“There were so many plants in the kitchen and living room alone that I was sure those were it. And then you called and asked about those goddamn ferns in the bathroom and I didn’t know, okay?” Peter finally let go of Stiles completely, backed off a bit and stood there to listen, arms crossed in front of his chest.

If Stiles hadn’t known about the ferns and the peace lilies and the fiddle-leaf fig and the azaleas and the calathea for an entire week, they should have been dead. He was about to say so when he remembered the feeling of Stiles’ magic that was all around this room.

“So how did you do it?” manipulating nature wasn’t easy magic.

Stiles got an excited gleam in his eyes, his lips curling into a proud smile as he darted to the corner of the room to grab a crystal. “Okay, so it wasn’t easy,” he went over to the next corner to pick up another one, “especially because I was under a time crunch,” there were two more crystals in the other two corners of the room, “but once I’d managed to get the ferns back to life, I set up an environmental barrier in this room. It made sure every single plant got whatever it needed, it directs the humidity of the room to the plants that need it the most and it even bends the light when necessary.”

He couldn’t even pretend to not be impressed, he’d never heard of anything like what Stiles was describing, which meant… he looked Stiles over curiously. And sure enough, Stiles’ grin got even bigger. “Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’, “I totally invented a thing! Even Scott could manage to keep plants with a set of these beauties,” he said, proudly presenting the crystals to Peter. “You can keep these though. Not that you need them! You’re obviously a very capable plant-dad!” Stiles added quickly. “Just see it as an apology for kind of screwing up. I know how much these mean to you, how much time and precision and attention for detail you put into each of them.”

Peter smiled at that, all his earlier worries forgotten. Of course Stiles wouldn’t mess up the one thing Peter asked him to do. That wasn’t like him at all. “Apology accepted,” He said as he accepted the crystals gratefully. “So this is why you spent so much time here, making sure your experiment was working.” Peter was just relieved he could finally puzzle it together.

“Oh, have a little faith, Peter. I knew it would work like a charm,” Stiles said with a cocky smirk on his face. “Honestly I just fell in love with your book collection. And after you called, I didn’t want you to get back when I wasn’t here. I know you, Peter, you’d have just thought I had been shirking my duties as your plantsitter,” he pointed an accusing finger at Peter, but he still had an amused glint in his eyes. “And there was no way I was not getting that reward you’d promised.”

“Oh, is that it? And here I thought you were doing this out of the goodness of your heart.”

“You’re not getting out of this one, Hale. You owe me,” Stiles’ mood was infectious and Peter soon found himself matching his smile.

“And how could I possibly make it up to you, Stiles?” his voice was almost a purr as he crowded up to Stiles, directing him backwards to his bed. “A massage for all your hard work perhaps?”

Stiles swallowed audibly once, before he shook his head and replied. He always had a retort ready, this boy. “You’re not getting in my pants that easily. But maybe I could be persuaded into your bed if you cook me something wearing that ridiculous apron I found in the bottom drawer.”

Stiles licked his lips as his eyes dragged over Peter’s form slowly. “And I do mean just the apron.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
